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by vakarians_girl



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Fluff, Post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vakarians_girl/pseuds/vakarians_girl
Summary: Cullen finally takes his wife home to meet his family, but he's strangely afraid.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 30





	Home

It had been years since Cullen had seen Honnleath. Since he had seen his childhood home. Now, only a short ride away, he found himself unbelievably nervous. Branson, Mia, Rosalie, Branson’s little boy—he knew they’d be happy to see him. That wasn’t why he was worried. He rubbed the back of his neck and chewed the inside of his lip, looking ahead at the road but not seeing it.

“Whoa, there.” Her voice startled him out of his reverie, and he reined in his own horse as well, turning to look at La’ara as he did so.

“What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t. You never have to talk to me Cullen, but if there’s anything I can do to help…” La’ara gripped her hart with her knees before reaching out with her right hand, laying it gently on Cullen’s arm. He looked down at her fingers, at the small band glistening on her ring finger especially.

“I just…Maker this is ridiculous. I’m afraid it won’t feel—you know when you’ve been away, for a long time, and you’ve thought and thought and thought about going home, and then you finally start going home and you suddenly wonder what if it’s not what you thought it would be? If it’s changed?” He looked up at his wife’s eyes, surprised to see her biting down a laugh.

“Vhenan. Cullen. Of course I do.” Heat flushed his face, and he laughed himself, both nervous and genuine.

“You’re right. Of course you know.” They sat there for another moment, laughter dissipating into the air. His horse knickered, her hart stamped. “It’s only, I’m afraid, and that’s somehow not all. It’s not just that it will be different.” He couldn’t bear it suddenly, and he slid off the horse, pacing to the trees that framed the dirt track. “It’s—I don’t know how to explain it, exactly. It’s just that I…” The bark of the pine tree was rough beneath his palm as he leaned against it, strangely breathless, and it settled him somewhat; grounded him. He looked back to see that La’ara had jumped down from her hart and was leading him and Cullen’s mare over, holding both the reins in her right hand. When she was close, she dropped them, confident in their lack of desire to run, and approached Cullen.

Large brown eyes looked up at him, flecked with hazel. Eyes he knew so well. They calmed him slightly, and La’ara cupped her hand around his cheek, bringing his forehead down to hers. As they breathed together, his heart began to slow back to normal. She moved her left arm and rested the stump against his waist, pulling him closer, further into herself. He let himself be held. He knew what else it was he was afraid of, but saying it out loud would be so foolish. And worse, what if it hurt her?

“You don’t have to be afraid of being afraid. We can stop for the day if you want to wait, vhenan.” Cullen breathed in, long and deep, and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. He chose his words carefully, sharing as much as he dared.

“I think I’m afraid that I’ll be too different. That it won’t feel—not that it won’t feel too different, but I’ll have changed too much. That it will all feel the same, except for me. I won’t fit. I won’t belong.” _And then I won’t know where home really is._

“Oh, vhenan.” She stroked his cheek as she looked up at him, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her palm. “I know you’re afraid. It’s normal to be afraid. Of both of those things. This place has been a home for your heart for so many years.” Cullen nodded slightly, bringing one hand up to rest on top of La’ara’s. “Living in Skyhold all those years, so far from my clan, so far away from my home—when I went back, I felt exactly as you do now.”

“How did you get past it?”

“I went back anyway.” He chuckled ruefully and bent to kiss her palm.

“I’m glad I have you with me, my love.” A soft smile crossed her lips, and she stretched up onto her toes.

“As if you could get rid of me.” Her lips were still upturned as they kissed, and in spite of himself, Cullen found himself smiling too. Perhaps his fears were unwarranted.

“I think I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

***

Cullen was surprised, after how anxious he had been during the ride, that he was calm, standing there in front of Mia’s door.

“Are you ready?” He looked down at La’ara and slipped his hand into hers.

“Only if you are.” She beamed as she nodded, and he raised his hand and knocked once, twice, thrice on the door. Feet pattered over, the latch scraped, and the door opened, an excited boy behind it.

“Uncle Cullen is here!” Christopher, hair as blonde as Cullen’s, eyes the same shade of brown, grabbed the older man’s hand and bolted inside, pulling him after. La’ara giggled, and then remembered that Cullen was still gripping her hand, and was jerked in after him, yelping as she lost her balance.

Inside, Mia, Rosalie, and Branson were grouped around a table. Mia’s husband, Thierry, was building a fire, to chase away the darkness that would shortly come with the sunset, and Branson’s wife, Meabh, entered the room from a back hallway. All of them smiled on seeing Cullen, and Mia, round with child, stood, rushing forward to embrace her brother.

“You’re here! Only took you…how many years has it been again?” Cullen chuckled as Rosalie and Branson approached, each hugging him in turn. Meabh, her hands on Christopher’s shoulders, kissed Cullen on the cheek while Thierry clapped him on the back. La’ara could see a blush spreading across Cullen’s cheeks, and she softly and surreptitiously squeezed his hand. Then Mia turned her attention over to her brother’s wife.

“He’s been keeping you from us so long, we were wondering if we would ever meet you!” Mia’s brown hair cascaded over her shoulders as she yanked La’ara in for a hug, one unexpected but not altogether unpleasant. La’ara smiled at Cullen over Mia’s shoulder, and then Mia stepped back. “I hope you don’t mind, but Cullen’s told us you’re so good at cooking. Meabh was hoping to learn a little bit from you, if that’s all right?.” La’ara glanced over at Branson’s wife, who smiled at her and beckoned her over to another table nearer the fire, where she was chopping vegetables—a little clumsily.

“Of course,” La’ara said, walking over, conjuring up her prosthetic. Cullen watched her pick up another knife and begin peeling potatoes, chatting idly to Meabh. His siblings surrounded him still, Rosalie and Branson not quite as enthusiastic as Mia—but, then again, that had always been the case.

“Cullen, we’re so glad you could make it back for this reunion.” Rosalie’s voice was soft in comparison to Mia’s brassy excitement, but no less warm.

“For a while we were afraid you’d end up missing it.” Branson punctuated his words with another jovial smack on Cullen’s back, and Cullen felt the walls he had built up melting away. Things felt so blissfully normal here. And his other fear, his secret fear, was gone from his mind for the moment. He smiled more widely now, kissing each of his sisters’ foreheads. He felt a tug on his tunic and looked down to see Christopher.

“Uncle Cullen, can I show you the mabari I’ve been carving?”

“Of course! I’d love to see what the master woodworker has been making!” The fire popped as Christopher tore off towards his room, and Branson left to tend it and speak to Thierry. Rosalin patted Cullen’s arm once more and then moved to the table where La’ara and Meabh were working; La’ara was holding up herbs and spices for Meabh to smell while she chatted indistinctly about something. She smiled as Rosalie approached, and Cullen watched as his sister kissed his wife’s cheek before pulling out a bowl of risen dough and tipping it out to begin kneading it. The three women began chatting, laughing, and Cullen watched as La’ara was enveloped into his family as though she had always been a part of it. His fear over coming home felt so foolish now.

“She’s beautiful, Cullen.” Mia smiled, halfway to a smirk, up at Cullen. “Why didn’t you bring her sooner?” Instead of answering, he rubbed his neck. “I know you do that when you’re embarrassed. Spit it out.” He sighed and forcefully lowered his arm before answering.

“I was...Maker, this is silly. I didn’t want to bring her home and realize that _she_ wasn’t my home. Does that make sense?” Mia scoffed. Cullen wasn’t looking at her, and he didn’t see her watching the way he gazed at La’ara.

“And? Did you realize?” It took him a moment to answer, distracted as he was by La’ara showing Rosalie how to plait her kneaded dough.

“Realize what?”

“Is she your home?” Cullen looked back at La’ara, at the way the firelight rippled across her figure, the rays of the sunset falling in from the window on her other side. The light brown of her hair turned golden and precious between the two light sources, and when she smiled, her cheeks rosy from the fire’s heat, lips bright and full, eyes sparkling, a feeling spread through his stomach. Her slightly crooked nose was birdlike and beautiful as it was silhouetted, and he could see her ears twitching happily. She glanced up and caught his eye, and smiled even more brightly. She waved her prosthesic hand at him, and though he knew it was taxing her to keep it up, she kept the molded fade energy going, too happy helping there with Rosalie and Meabhe to stop. Meabhe whispered something in her ear, tearing her attention away and making her laugh again. Cullen felt warmth running through his limbs, strange and soft, something he had felt before, but not often. Something he had only felt when he was with La’ara.

“Yes. She is.”


End file.
